The Ration Ticket

Excerpt from the diary of Jules Flegmon.

12 February. -- Where there's smoke, there's fire. Dined today with my old friend Maleffroi, a councilor at the Seine Prefecture. I skillfully drew the truth out of him after loosening his tongue with a bottle of Arbois. Naturally, putting all the non-essential to death is out of the question. The plan will simply cut back on their time alive. Maleffroi explained to me that they will be entitled to so many days of existence per month according to their degree of uselessness. It seems that the time ration cards are already printed. I found this idea as a propos as it is poetic. I believe I remember having said some truly charming things about it. Undoubtedly a little affected by the wine, Maleffroi looked at me warmly, his eyes misty with friendship.